SYCOPHANT:

Take it all... it's yours.  I made it for you.  I LOVE YOU.
                                                   (I must have you now).

There's a sycophant in the kitchen;
          sputters and turns on his way out.
Nothing much to say,
          I just smile and wave him on.

(It's got to be this way).

It's all the talk, talk, talk talk, talk de jour;
          nothing too distinguishing
          nothing too profound
I'm not riled,
          (a bit perturbed, perhaps)
But, it's got to be this way.

Never ending... ad nauseum.

Sycophant, beautiful.  (I want you all).

There's another one on the back porch;
          chest heaving as if to say,
                     'Take it all, it's yours.'
I turn around and head on back into the fit
          But as the door creaks open
          I decide to take an entirely different approach.

I turn around and let her talk on and on and on;
          nothing too distinguishing
          nothing too profound
I'm not riled,
          (a bit perturbed, perhaps)
But, it's got to be this way.

Happy ending... in nausea.

I need you all, it's got to be this way.
I've said it before.

Sycophant, beautiful, typical.

(I love you).


June 2002, Michael Anderson